


Partners

by Shiny_Pichu



Category: Soul Eater, Soul Eater Not!
Genre: Beginnings, M/M, Post-Series, Pre-Series, Slow Build, and there are a lot of gaps for these two, i have no idea how to tag this, just trying to fill in the gaps of canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_Pichu/pseuds/Shiny_Pichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the development of Akane and Clay's relationship from beginning to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

It’s this dream again.

He’s running in a scratchboard world. A familiar landscape in outline only, devoid of any color but two. Pencil thin, snow white lines guide him down a pitch black road along a pitch black street in a pitch black town. The path he takes is already predetermined, like a toy car on a plastic racetrack, doomed to a fixed set of turns and straightaways that will lead him to an end he cannot escape from, despite his hurried, frenzied pace that would suggest something more meaningful, less predictable, and provoked by a far greater fear.

But still, he is afraid.

Afraid of the danger than he knows lurks just behind him, reaching towards him, forever stretching, so that he never slows his desperate sprint, and never looks back. He _can’t_ slow down, _can’t_ look back. Either course of action would lead to a fate worse than what lies at the end of this monochrome maze. He knows this instinctively, in the same way that he knows there is something reaching for him with ill-intent without ever glancing back to put a shape to it. It’s like an invisible pressure, something unformed and yet with the ability to touch him, to grasp him, to hold him down, to restrain him, to pull him back to that place he’s running so frantically from.

So he keeps running. Gaze locked steady at what is straight in front of him. His lungs burning, chest heaving, legs aching, but he’s almost there. He’s almost at the end. It’s almost over.

The sidewalk comes to an abrupt end. His feet hit asphalt, and that’s when a pair of bright, blinding lights flash from the darkness. The silence of this world is broken by a sharp, blaring horn, and when he turns towards the glaring illumination with flinching, watery eyes he—

“…Sir?”

A barely-there touch at his shoulder. Clay sits up straight with a start.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice coming out of the speakers overhead sets reality back into place. “We will be arriving at Death City Airport shortly. The time is now 12:55. The local temperature is—”

“We’ll be landing soon, sir,” the flight attendant talks over the announcement, smiling politely as she gestures to the back of the seat in front of Clay, “So I’ll need you to return your tray to its upright position and make sure any carry-on belongings not in the overhead compartments are secure and placed under your seat.”

“A-ah, y—es, sorry,” Clay stutters to get his voice working again with a throat dry from deep slumber, but the woman is already gone further down the aisle to inform other passengers of the same information. Clay feels some warmth crawl to his cheeks as he quickly puts his tray up and shoves his school handbook into his bag before pushing it underneath his seat.

It takes until after the plane has landed for his racing heartbeat to calm.

 

* * *

 

A minute after Clay turns his cell phone back on, it rings.

While stepping onto the escalator to head down, he digs the device out of his pocket while adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag with a free hand.

“Yeah?” Clay answers without bothering to look at the caller ID. He listens to the voice on the other end of the line with a roll of his eyes, “…Yes. I’m _fine_. I made it here in one piece. ……Yes. _Yeah_ I just got off! ……No, they take my luggage to the dorms beforehand.”

He steps off the escalator and looks around for signs to the exit.

“The welcome for new students starts at three. I’ve got plenty of time,” Clay is saying into the phone as he weaves through the crowd, “…Yeah, yeah. I’ll call if anything happens. ……Really! I will!” He heaves a sigh as he listens to the prattle on the other end, “…Okay okay okay! Look, I gotta go catch my bus! I’ll call you later love you _bye_!” He hangs up on the spot.

“Excuse me!”

It’s while Clay is slipping his cell back into his pants pocket that someone bumps hard into his shoulder as they sprint pass. The device is knocked out of his hand and falls to the floor, and he only gets a glimpse of a girl in a school uniform run by before she gets enveloped by the crowd.

Clay quickly kneels down to pick up his phone—luckily the casing on it saved it from any actual damage—and when he stands back up the mob of people wanes just enough for him to get a glimpse at what exactly that girl was running towards.

“T-the bus!”

Clay starts to run towards the sliding glass doors as he shoves his cell phone into his pocket, where he can see the bus filling up with the last of those waiting to get on.

“S-sorry, excuse me!” he nearly barrels into several people while squeezing past some, “I’m sorry! E-excuse me, I really need to…!”

A clear path finally shows itself amidst the throng of moving individuals, and Clay takes it, picking up speed to a mad dash.

The figure he crashes into seems to come out of nowhere.

All of a sudden Clay is on the ground, the clatter of miscellaneous objects hitting hard floor ringing in his ears, and his arm _hurts_ where he used it to cushion his fall and he realizes in that moment his first day at DWMA is just going to be one of those days.

Clay pushes himself off the floor faster than he probably should, but he ignores the brief dizziness the sudden movement causes as he looks towards who he ran into.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” Clay scrambles to pick things up without being aware of who they belong to, “A-are you okay? I’m sorry I-I was just—” he babbles on as his eyes dart every which way, starting to form a sizeable pile of items in his arms without doing anything about them, “T-there was the bus and the girl and—I-I mean, just—wasn’t looking where I was going, and I—!”

“Are you going to Shibusen?” a calm, collected voice cuts through Clay’s floundering, who looks up from apologizing to the floor to see his new student handbook being offered to him.

“Ah—” Clay replies intelligently, slow to process the young boy in front of him. From the suit and tie he thought it might have been a businessman he collided into. But now that he actually stops to _look_ , the boy in front of him couldn’t possibly be that much older than himself. Dark hair. Deep blue eyes. Though it’s difficult to tell past the glasses and the cascade of black hair covering the left. It is then that Clay notices the skeletal pin clipped to the boy’s necktie.

“O-oh, uh, yes!” Clay finally answers, taking the handbook with one hand while holding the collection of fallen items in the other arm, “A-and, you are too?”

“I start today,” the boy answers, keeping up the polite, but friendly smile, “…Don’t worry, by the way. The next bus should be here in about ten minutes.”

Clay blinks once, “Oh,” he glances towards the glass doors on impulse, where the bus is nowhere to be seen outside. “…Right.”

The other boy chuckles lightly, “Here,” he straightens out his legs to stand then offers out a hand. Clay takes it and gets to his feet with some lingering warmth to his face. “Thank you,” the boy goes on as he plucks the wallet out of the pile of things Clay picked up.

“O-oh, you’re welcom—” Clay starts to say with a shaky smile, but it abruptly fades as he shakes his head, “N-no wait! I’m still _really_ sorry about before! I-it was completely my fault!”

The boy chuckles again, “It’s alright, really. I think you probably took more of a tumble than I did anyway. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Clay can feel a flush of embarrassment color his cheeks as he tries to stutter out a response to the person _he_ ran into, now concerned over his own well-being, “Y-yeah, I mean! No! No I’m fine! Totally fine.” He starts hurriedly putting away his fallen things into his pockets and bag as if that somehow adds proof to his claim.

“Good,” the boy smiles, and he seems to wait until both of Clay hands are free before he offers up his own again, “My name is Akane, by the way.”

“Oh—” Clay starts to raise the wrong hand in order to shake Akane’s right before dropping it down and lifting his own, “I-I’m Clay.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Akane goes on as they shake hands, and Clay hurriedly responds with “y-you too.” As they let go, Akane asks while pointing towards the bus stop outside, “Do you want to wait for the next bus together?”

Some of the knots in Clay’s stomach untangle themselves, and it feels like it’s the first time he’s uttered something clearly to a stranger all day when he answers, “Yeah, sure!” He tries for a smile that he hopes isn’t as eager and desperate as he thinks it looks.

If it does, Akane doesn’t show it on his face, who merely smiles in agreement and starts leading the walk out through the automatic double doors and into the hot Nevada air. When it hits Clay he suddenly regrets the hoodie, and wonders how Akane can still act so poised even in that suit. But he says nothing about it and follows the other boy wordlessly to the bus stop, which is deserted thanks to the recent pick up, so they’re free to sit at the few empty benches available to them.

“Um, so…” Clay speaks up as he takes a seat, sliding his bag off his shoulder to place in his lap, “…w-where are you from, Akane?”

The boy in question looks up from checking his watch and to Clay’s face, “Japan,” he answers with a light smile.

“Whoa, seriously?!” Clay forgets himself for a moment and exclaims loudly. “I-I mean…” he lowers his voice back to a normal level as he feels a blush return, “That must have been a long flight. A-and your English is perfect!”

Akane chuckles, “Well, thank you. That means a lot coming from you. Or am I wrong to assume you’re American?”

“Wha…?!” Clay straightens slightly in his seat, and hesitantly points to himself, “I…is it really obvious…?”

“Not really,” Akane responds with a laughing smile, “It was just a guess. What state are you from, then?”

“Oh, uh, California,” Clay answers, returning the smile with a tentative one of his own.

“Oh? A short flight like that must have been nice.”

“Heh…” Clay rubs the back of his neck with a lopsided grin, “I-I guess, but I still ended up sleeping through most of it. I was up all night thinking about today and being too nervous to sleep…”

“I’m sure you aren’t the only one,” Akane comments reasonably, and Clay finds himself smiling a little less self-consciously.

The ten-minute wait for the next bus flies by as they continue chatting about mundane things, the tension slowly unwinding from Clay’s body and mind as the seconds tick on by in a casual air maintained by his newly found companion’s cool demeanor. So by the time their bus reaches its destination, Clay’s hopping off from the last two steps to touch ground while laughing loud and uncontrolled at something Akane just said as the bus doors were opening.

“Hey, so I heard the monthly allowances we get here are crazy big,” Clay is rattling on with a grin while they walk side by side down the marked path for school. “Like, I dunno about you, but I’m used to getting ten bucks a week for doing dishes and taking out the trash, but supposedly we’re gonna get—”

And then they turn the corner, and Clay abruptly halts, wide eyes taking in the new sight before him.

“That’s…” his excited grin freezes, taking on a strained undertone, “…a lot of stairs.”

It seems impossible that an outdoor staircase can be that spotlessly _white_. But it is. Obviously Clay’s read about and seen pictures of the illustrious stairs leading up to the world’s foremost educational facility for meisters and weapons alike, meant to only add to their physical as well as mental training for the several years they’d be studying here. But it certainly looked significantly more…daunting in person.

“Something wrong, Clay?” Akane asks from the sixth step up, smiling in a way that makes Clay think his question isn’t as innocent as he makes it sound.

“O-of course not!” Clay smirks, quickly catching up to the other boy and stopping on the seventh step, “I was just thinking for how often this place is talked-up, the staircase would be _longer_.”

Akane chuckles high and bright, “…Well then, shall we have a friendly race to the top?”

“Huh?” Clay’s grin falters for a moment, “O-oh sure! Just, y’know,” he clears his throat briefly, abruptly taking on an instructor-like tone, “no matter how in shape we might be, we should be careful on a hot day like this. And not push ourselves too far.”

Akane smile widens to what Clay can only perceive as the edge of a smirk.

“Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clay didn’t have to worry about him.

“…Are you sure you’re alright?”

Somehow he knows, even while on his hands and knees gasping towards the ground, Akane is smiling with very little concern as he asks that.

“…I-I…m fine…” Clay pants, finally lifting his head just to show the other exactly how fine he is, “I…isn’t it…obvious…?”

“Very,” Akane, kneeling down at his side, affirms with exactly the kind of sweet smile Clay had been picturing in his head. “The abundance of sweat is a nice touch.”

“Y-you…” Clay wheezes with narrowed eyes, “…sure know a lot of impressive words for a Japanese kid.”

Akane laughs, “I aim to please.” He then stands back up, absently tugging down his sleeve to glance at the wristwatch underneath, “Oh, and so you’re aware. The welcoming lecture for new students starts in about fifteen minutes.”

_That_ gets Clay to scramble to his feet. With his hoodie tied around his waist by the sleeves—something he did about a quarter way up the staircase, revealing the thin T-shirt underneath—he wipes away the sweat at his forehead with a bare arm, takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly and controlled, adjusts the strap of his shoulder bag, and then begins taking wide steps ahead of Akane towards the entrance of the school.

“Well what are we waiting for then?!”

If Akane says or reacts at all to Clay’s trembling legs, he doesn’t see or hear anything about it as the other boy trails obediently after him.

The room where new students are gathered isn’t hard to find, luckily. While Clay had also read about the academy and its famous maze-like structure to train the memory and intellect of its students even outside the classroom, just for today, it seemed, there were signs aplenty to lead the two along the many corridors and hallways towards where they needed to be.

By the time they reach the proper door, Clay is sufficiently cooled off from walking around the air-conditioned school. Though it’s Akane who reaches for the doorknob and enters the room first, while Clay follows close behind.

Immediately to their left is a small desk where a tall, well-built man of African descent is standing behind it.

“Weapon or meister?” is the first thing he says to the pair.

“Meister,” Akane answers first, and Clay doesn’t quite process the response while he’s saying “weapon,” to overlap the other by a split-second.

But as soon as the words leave their lips, they both stiffen in surprise, and turn their heads to look at each other in unison.

“Hey, alright. Good,” the man behind the desk is talking, completely oblivious to the surprised stares the boys are throwing each other, “Already found yourselves a partner. That makes things a lot easier. We’ll skip the pins then, you two just wait with the others till we start.”

But they don’t move from where they’re standing, eyes still locked and wide.

“That’s right…” Akane murmurs after a moment.

“…we never…” Clay starts to continue the thought.

“…asked if we were—” they both begin to say at the same time, but stop.

A few seconds pass of silent staring before they simultaneously burst out laughing.

The man behind the desk jumps in surprise, looking between the two of them in apparent confusion, but they both ignore him while the laughter dies down, and Clay wipes away a marble of a tear at the corner of his eye.

“Well, why not?” Clay takes a half-step back to hold out his hand to the other boy, “Being partners, I mean. It’s worth a try.”

For a moment the grin fades from Akane’s face, and in that moment Clay thinks he’s made some horrible assumption and his stomach drops. But then the smile returns to Akane’s features, the one that’s been putting Clay’s worries and fears at ease all afternoon, and Clay realizes it was just surprise more than anything.

“…Alright,” Akane nods, “I look forward to working with you, Clay.”

And he takes his hand to shake.


	2. First Wielding

Clay is looking more nervous than Akane thinks he ought to be.

Akane doesn’t mean to be impatient, but when he carefully glances around the wide, open training area, everyone else in the class has paired up and the weapons among them have transformed to be wielded. This is in varying levels of success, of course, and their instructor—Sid, the man they met at orientation—is busy going around the room to give advice to those weapons only partly transformed, and to the meisters unaccustomed to handling any sort of object designed to hurt.

So far, Akane can’t tell which it is that’s making Clay hesitate. If he’s embarrassed he can’t yet completely transform into his weapon shape, or if he’s tentative about letting someone he’s only known for a couple of days handle him while he’s pointed and dangerous in a room full of inexperienced fighters. 

Akane decides to eliminate one possibility at a time.

“This is our first lesson outside of lecture, you know,” he smiles in a way that he hopes is comforting, “Everyone is a beginner here. So if you can’t entirely trans—”

“No,” Clay cuts in quickly, looking up from the floor to Akane’s face, “No I can…I can transform just fine…” His eyes flicker away apprehensively again once he goes quiet, and a fidgety arm comes up to grasp at his other. 

Alright, then it’s the second option. 

“I told you before, didn’t I? I was raised in a dojo. I’m no stranger to using weapons. You don’t have to worry about me getting hurt.” 

From Clay’s slight flinch, Akane hit the nail on the head. But it still takes a moment for Clay to look Akane in the eye again, and when he does, he looks tenser than ever. 

“I-I know, but…” he ruffles up his own hair restlessly with one hand, and he’s back to looking at anywhere that isn’t the meister, “It’s just—I’m really long and probably heavy and uncomfortable to swing around and I’m _sharp_ and when I’m nervous I can get even sharper and—”

“ _Clay_ ,” Akane moves forward before the blond can retreat, and places both hands firmly on Clay’s shoulders, “…Relax,” he breathes out. 

It doesn’t look like Clay is taking his advice, but at least this way the weapon has very little choice but to make eye contact. Akane can feel the tension in Clay’s body through his shoulders just as well as he can see Clay’s soul trembling in terror. 

“I’ll be careful,” Akane goes on when Clay does nothing but stare at him anxiously, “And you can transform back at anytime.” He lets go of Clay’s shoulders and clasps both hands around one of the weapon’s, “I _promise_ I’ll be careful.”

Clay looks down at Akane’s hands covering his own, clear in his expression that he’s thinking it over. Akane waits patiently, hoping Sid won’t make an ill-timed appearance at their sides to scare the other back into his shell. 

Finally, Clay takes in a breath, and exhales slow and calming, eyes still glued to their clasped hands, “…Okay.” He seems to nod more to himself than Akane, “Yeah… Yeah okay.” At last a small smile breaks out on Clay’s lips, and Akane smiles back. 

After another couple of deep breathes to settle his wavering wavelength, Clay closes his eyes. A few seconds of stillness pass, and then Akane watches as the young boy before him starts to glow a pure white. The light quickly envelops him completely, and then the humanoid shape starts to break down, little by little, like thin strips to a whole picture, which move and mix and arrange themselves into a form much longer and slimmer than the original. Akane looks down as the hand he has gripped in his morphs and shrinks into something resembling a hilt, where his gaze travels up as the rest of the weapon takes shape. 

It only takes a few seconds for the form to solidify, and then the white breaks off like a thin casing, revealing the sleek, black metal underneath.

Akane had been told beforehand that first day by Clay that he was a sword. But as to what kind, Clay couldn’t tell him anything beyond _“Uhm…a long one?”_ leaving the meister in the dark as to what he would be dealing with. If he were being completely honest with himself, he was hoping for something light and precise like a katana. Although a more western blade would do just fine, he just had less personal experience with those. As long as it was something he could wield easily enough, he had no complaints. 

Clay was neither lying nor exaggerating when he said he was long. Or heavy. _Or_ sharp. The instant the change of weight settles in the four-foot long blade, Akane drops the upper half of the sword to plunge a quarter of an inch deep into the floor. 

“Sorry—!” Akane apologizes hastily, and he can already feel warmth gathering at his cheeks at this embarrassing display, “Can you…erm, make yourself lighter…?”

Before today’s lesson started, they were informed by Sid that it was common for some immature weapons to experience abnormalities in weight. They might be as heavy as their normal weapon counterparts, or lighter, or even heavier. The best, well-trained weapons could adjust their mass at will, even while engaged in battle, which was why it was important during these first wielding sessions to practice and hone these abilities.

 **“O-oh, uh…”**

It’s an exceptionally strange experience, hearing someone else’s voice in his own head. It echoes very slightly, and with it comes a ripple of the emotions attached to the words spoken. Not that Akane really needs that to know how panicked Clay is feeling.

 **“Yeah, um, I think I can…”**

Akane waits a couple of seconds before he tries to lift Clay up again. He never imagined he would end up with a long sword, if it could even be called that. It was definitely longer than average, with a slightly wider blade, and there’s no cross hilt to speak of, nor a pommel. The handle is simply straight and flat, the only decorative feature to speak of being the diamond-shaped guard just above the handle before it breaks off into the blade itself, which is black in color, and completely outlined with a dark gray border—the same color of the hilt.

The next time Akane tries to lift Clay, it’s certainly lighter, but nowhere near the lightness he would need to swing comfortably in a real fight. But as things are right now, he can at least get the sword off the ground, and try a few practice swings to get a feel for the blade’s reach.

**“C-careful…!”**

Akane chuckles, his composure back now that he can move more freely than before, “You’re doing fine, Clay. You’re a wonderful blade.”

His partner doesn’t say anything in response to that, but Akane can imagine how red Clay’s face would be if he were in human form. 

After some offensive swings, Akane tries the feel of parrying and blocking with an imaginary opponent. The lack of a cross hilt means his hands are more susceptible to injury, but it makes for a sleeker design overall, which could help him sidestep some attacks. The only major problem he can foresee is being forced to use two hands at all times to wield the long sword. They would have to work on Clay making himself light enough to bring that down to one, if need be.

The sound of clapping brings Akane’s attention to Sid approaching the pair, and he lowers Clay down carefully as he turns towards their instructor.

“That was very good for your first session,” Sid goes on with a genial smile, and Akane bows habitually before he can stop himself, “You’re definitely a little ahead of the crowd on weapon proficiency.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Akane replies, and he abruptly feels the handle around his fingers slip away as Clay returns to human form. That makes Sid shift his focus on the blond once he fully materializes next to Akane.

“And good transformation. It seemed stable enough to me, but we’ll work on better control in relation to syncing together with meisters in the coming weeks. So be prepared to work hard.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Clay stammers. 

“Alright!” Sid turns and shouts so everyone in the expansive room can hear, “Gather back up! We’re going to end today’s class with another demonstration by some EAT students! Then we’ll call it a day!”

As Sid leaves the pair, Clay releases a breath it sounds like he was holding in forever. Akane smiles as he looks over at him, before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You were great, you know," Akane says soft and sincere. "I’m not just saying that.”

Clay smiles shakily while glancing to his left, away from Akane, “…Thanks.” 

Akane’s smile fades at the short, lackluster reply, but before he can even open his mouth to voice his concerns, the hand at Clay’s shoulder is slipping away as the weapon hurriedly takes strides forward to join up with the rest of the class. 


	3. First Lie

“Can I ask you something?”

It’s been ten minutes since Clay came back from his shower, and he’s spent it sitting atop his bed pretending to dry off his hair with a towel while he stares at Akane reading a book on the adjacent mattress, debating whether or not to open his mouth and just go for it. Take the plunge. 

When he finally gets the words to leave his lips, Clay stops ruffling up his hair pointlessly with the towel and moves it down to rest around his shoulders, and watches nervously as Akane looks away from his reading material—whatever it may be; Clay can’t read Japanese—and glances to the blond, blinking once.

“Sure,” the affirmative answer comes so much easier than Clay was expecting. That, and the friendly smile that graces Akane’s features eradicates most of the built-up apprehension in Clay in one fell swoop. 

As Akane sets his bookmark in place and sits up a bit straighter from his lounging position against his propped up pillows, Clay fidgets with the edges of his towel and continues as steady as he can, “I uh, was just…wondering. Um.” His eyes dart away, but he can’t stop himself from looking back at Akane to see the reaction in his face when he asks, “What made you decide to come here to DWMA?”

Surprise is, of course, the first thing Clay sees in his partner’s expression. But just after that—and it’s so brief Clay maybe just imagined it—there’s something else. Something the weapon can’t really put a name to. But before it can even begin to unnerve him, Akane is smiling again, like it really was just all in Clay’s head. 

“You’re curious to know?” 

And that’s the smile Akane wears when Clay is pretty sure he’s being teased. It makes him blush habitually, and then he’s stammering while glancing away, “W-well I mean, you don’t—have to tell me or anything. It’s just—you know. I’m a weapon, so. There’s not much choice for me being here. But I’ve been kinda wondering why meisters like you would willingly come to a school like this… Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Y’know, i-it’s just…”

Akane laughs lightly, cutting off the long sword’s floundering, “I understand, Clay.” He then moves to sit at the side of the bed, facing the other boy, and sets his book down on the nightstand, “Shibusen can be a pretty dangerous place.”

“Yeah, that!” Clay jumps at the chance to point out the words he was searching for.

“Hm…” Akane makes a noncommittal noise as he absently slips off his glasses and wipes them clean with the fabric of his t-shirt, “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have that profound of a reason for coming here.” He then folds up the glasses and places them atop his nightstand before looking back and smiling at Clay, “Between the social benefits or having a hero-complex, I guess I’d lean more towards the latter. I can’t imagine there are many reasons other than those two for meisters to come here.” 

Clay almost says “Really?” as if he were disappointed in the answer. But when he thinks about it, he can’t find anything wrong with such a statement. Perhaps there was just some part of him that expected something different from Akane, especially when he didn’t seem the hero-complex type. 

“…Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Clay says as he slips the towel off his shoulders and throws it in the general direction of his desk chair.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh—no no!” Clay whirls back to Akane, “I-I was just curious. Sorry for asking out of the blue like that.”

“I don’t mind,” Akane replies easily, his calming smile unwavering, “It’s a fair question for a weapon to have. And I am your meister, after all. You should be free to ask me anything.”

Clay can feel the corners of his lips twitch up in an involuntary smile at the words “your meister,” which is stupid and weird and it shouldn’t make him feel lightheaded in a good way. But it does, and he has to get up from the bed and pretend he has something to grab at his desk so Akane can’t see his face while he tries to reign in the expression.

“Yeah, well… As your _weapon_ ,” Clay meaninglessly straightens up his stack of notebooks on top of his desk, “one of these days I’ll teach you how to talk like a normal fourteen year old boy.”

Clay can hear the offense in Akane’s tone, “What’s wrong with the way I speak?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” the blond grins as he turns back around, leaning back against the chair, “I mean, as long as you wanna sound like a poindexter all your life.”

Akane blinks at him, and then his brows furrow, like he’s come across a word he can’t read, “A…a what?” 

“You know, a poin—…oh,” the realization comes to Clay as he’s getting back into bed, “Uh…like a nerd.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Akane sure isn’t smiling anymore, but now Clay is holding back laughter, “…You’re joking.”

“I most certainly am not,” Clay mimes the action of adjusting a pair of glasses, and for that he gets a pillow thrown at his face with far more strength than should be possible for a boy of Akane’s age. It almost knocks Clay right off the bed, but he catches himself in time by grabbing the headboard, and then the pillow is falling into his lap to reveal the apologetic—although still grinning—facial features, “Okay okay I was _kidding_ …!”

“Goodnight, Clay,” Akane says as pulls the covers up over himself and lies down.

“Aw come on, don’t go to bed mad at me!” Clay is saying despite the grin he still can’t quite reel in. 

“I’m not mad,” Akane says perfectly level, and if Clay didn’t know any better he’d say the meister was telling the truth. When Akane reaches over to turn off his lamp he continues, “I’ll just remember this the next time I get another weapon girl requesting me to be their meister.”

It’s already difficult enough to see Akane’s expression when the entire room goes dark, but then Clay hears the rustle of fabric that suggests Akane has rolled over onto his other side, so that even if Clay were to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, it would be impossible to determine if Akane were serious or not with his back facing him. 

Clay lets the heavy silence hang in the air for a moment.

“U-um…”

“I’m kidding, Clay,” Akane says before the weapon can start his sentence, and there’s the amused tone that tells Clay he has nothing to worry about. 

Clay breathes out quietly in relief, and then he can hear Akane turning back over. Although it’s still hard to make out in the dark, he’s pretty sure he can see Akane smiling.

“…Jerk,” but there’s no actual irritation in Clay’s voice, and he can feel himself smiling too, so he compensates by throwing the pillow back at Akane. 

It’s nowhere near as forceful as when the meister flung it. In fact it’s more of a light toss than anything, but it does land on Akane’s face, so it’s at least a small annoyance while Akane has to bring a hand out from under the blankets to pull it away and let it fall to the floor.

“Goodnight, Clay,” Akane says again with more warmth than before, so Clay knows it’s okay to lie down under the covers himself to go to sleep.

“Night, Akane,” Clay smiles into his pillow.


	4. First Impressions: Side A

Clay Sizemore isn’t entirely the person Akane expected him to be.

Then again, it’s not as if he’s had a lot of practice being around people his own age. Let alone perfectly normal teenagers. That is, if he could classify Clay as such. Akane really had no point of reference for this sort of thing. For all he knew, normal kids his age were all as clumsy and simple-minded as his new partner was. 

Not that Akane had any qualms with that. It was more beneficial for him in the long run to be associated with someone with more differences than similarities to himself. Akane being quick on his feet meant there were fewer opportunities for their words and actions to clash, and Clay seemed like a natural-born follower of sorts, which Akane felt was a better trait for a weapon to have. 

But there were times when Clay honestly surprised him. 

One instance was when grades were posted for their first quiz of the semester, and Clay received a higher score than Akane.

“…You’re actually quite smart, aren’t you?” Akane had said, turning away from the list on the bulletin board to Clay standing beside him.

“Y-you don’t have to say it like _that_!” the weapon had sputtered back, cheeks red and eyes narrowed. 

Through their first few weeks of school, Akane realized Clay was fairly intelligent for his age. It simply took time for him to work things out. But in the right environment under the right circumstances, Clay was quite the analyzer. If only such things came to him more naturally, he could be an extremely adept fighter in his own right. But perhaps that was why fate had thrust upon him the abilities of a weapon. 

And yet it was difficult to say whether Clay’s intelligence was innate or procured through hard work. During lectures he’s entirely focused on the material at hand, taking precise and well-organized notes, even raising his hand for questions on portions he doesn’t quite understand. But then there are times when he hardly studies at all for a test and gets one of the highest grades in class. 

And then there’s this morning. The most recent instance of the weapon surprising his meister, when Akane isn’t a very easy person to surprise. 

Being about a month into their new life at DWMA, the pair had already settled into their morning habits while taking the other’s into consideration. Akane was always the first to awaken, without any outside assistance, and would go about his routine to get ready for the day while Clay continued to snore softly away for another hour before his alarm was set to go off. Akane liked having the extra time in the morning to take things at his leisure, while Clay was a master at what he liked to call “The Ten Minute Process,” which consisted of a five minute shower, throwing on whatever clothes were clean and the least wrinkled-looking from sitting in a pile after washing them days ago, and eating for breakfast whatever Akane was kind enough to grab for him at the cafeteria. 

Though it wasn’t always in that exact order every day. Sometimes Akane felt like eating first and he would save his shower for last, so when he returned to their shared dorm room he would enter to find Clay either in the middle of getting dressed and ready to go, or still passed out in bed after having “mistaken” the off switch for his alarm as the snooze button. 

Today in particular is the former, but when Akane opens the door and steps into the room to find Clay by his bed with his back turned to the meister, what he’s putting on certainly isn’t his usual pair of jeans, jacket and sneakers.

“Clay?” Akane says as he shuts the door behind him, the combination of sudden noise making the weapon jump and whirl around as if he’s only just remembered he has a roommate, “What are you wearing?”

“Huh?! O-oh, this?” Clay partly turns his body away while holding the disastrously knotted necktie with both hands as if to somehow hide its existence, “N-nothing, I just…uh…” he looks down as he fiddles with the tie—or perhaps trying to untie it?—while flushing pink and mumbling the rest of his sentence at an unintelligible level.

“…That looks horrendous,” Akane comments with an affectionate smile, taking strides over to Clay as he slips the towel off his shoulders and tosses it on his bed, “Turn this way.”

Clay does so with minimal reluctance, but only let’s go of the necktie once Akane’s hands are reaching for it. 

The knot is even worse-looking up close, and for Clay’s sake the meister holds back his laughter until later. But in a way it’s so bad it’s impressive, and it actually takes Akane a minute to figure out how to possibly untangle it before he can even begin to tie it correctly. Once he gets it going though, he’s careful to be gentle with his pulls and tugs, going slower than he usually does for Clay’s straining gaze downward to watch. 

“…Um…” the weapon starts with a shaky clearing of his throat while Akane is slipping the last of the jet black cloth through the knot, “…I-I requested a uniform change…the other day…” He looks off to the side as his faint blush returns, running a restless hand through his hair, and Akane goes on to turn down the white collar of the weapon’s shirt, “…It’s just, felt weird standing next to you in casual clothes, s-so I thought I’d…maybe look a little…nicer…asyourpartner…” A cough.

By the time Akane is done straightening up Clay’s front, the blond in question is a beet shade of red and quite set on acting as though there’s something utterly fascinating up on the ceiling to look at, which is convenient for the meister, then, who thinks his face might be feeling a little warmer than usual. 

“…Well,” Akane finally says while Clay still isn’t looking at him, “You’d look nicer with your shirt properly tucked in. And roll down those sleeves.”

When Akane moves his hands to Clay’s waist and sleeve the weapon jumps and slaps them away, “I-I can fix it myself, _mom_!” he shrieks, hurriedly shoving the remaining white fabric down past his belt and suit pants, “And it’s too hot for long sleeves…!”

Akane heaves a sigh, glad for the opportunity to rid himself of the extra heat to his cheeks, “I feel more like your mother than your meister most of the ti— _Clay_!”

Clay loosens the necktie further with one hand while defending against Akane’s reaching hands with the other, “Whaaat? It’s too tight!”

“It was perfect the way it _was_!” Akane snaps matter-of-factly, following close at Clay’s heels while he attempts to dodge the subject by making a swift beeline for his schoolbag, “ _Clay_.”

“Y’know I’d _love_ to talk more about this but I have this class to go to I’m gonna be late for—” Clay speaks quickly as he scoops his textbooks and loose papers off his desk and shoves him into his bag without a pause in his strides towards the door, “—but maybe come talk to me again once _you_ look decent enough to lecture _me_ about my attire I’llseeyoulateratlunchbye!”

“CLAY—” the door slams closed behind the weapon with a last wave and impish grin, leaving Akane to sigh out the remaining, “are you five,” to the empty dorm room and with no real fire to it.

After a moment, Akane heaves another sigh, arms folded across his chest, and then turns towards his bed where he has his own necktie and suit jacket laid out neat and ironed on top of it. In the silence of the room Akane walks over, picks up the black tie, slips it underneath his white collar, and begins knotting it in the fashion he always does.

It takes until he’s stepped outside the room again to reign in the soft smile at his lips.


	5. First Impressions: Side C

Akane Hoshi isn’t entirely the person Clay expected him to be.

Granted, they’re very small things—these unexpectancies—in the grand scheme of things. But against the ever calm and collected professional persona Akane puts forth one-hundred percent of the time, it’s a sort of relief to know of these particular traits that make Clay feel as though he’s not entirely mismatched to such a competent meister. 

However, it does take him a while to realize, as most things do. It isn’t until two weeks have gone by of their newly formed partnership, after Clay has had the experience of eating breakfast, lunch and dinner with Akane more or less every day…that he notices the other boy might have something of a sweet tooth. 

Clay decides to bring it up during lunch one day in the school cafeteria when Akane sits down across from him at the table with a parfait at the corner of his tray. The fourth one he’s had this week. 

“…Akane, you…” Clay begins tentatively, a somewhat strained smile on his face as he absently swirls the noodles of pasta around his fork, “…really like sweets, huh?”

“No more than the average person,” Akane responds without hesitation, almost _too_ quickly, but his facial features are perfectly relaxed and normal, and without a pause to the movement of his knife and fork as he cuts through his chicken. 

He denies it so quickly Clay can’t completely suppress the laughter that bubbles up to his throat, so it comes out as a half-snorted chuckle while he pretends there’s something to scratch at on his cheek. 

“What?” Akane says a little too sharply, eyes rising to Clay’s face in a barely-there glare. 

“Nothing!” the weapon answers promptly, though he can feel himself grinning and he can’t reel it in, “Really! Nothing at all. It’s fine, I mean.” He distractedly goes back to twirling around his pasta so he doesn’t have to look at the other’s face. 

“I told you, I don’t really—” Akane starts.

“I don’t have a problem with it or anything,” Clay chuckles with a half-shrug, “It’s just funny.” There’s a pause as he takes in a forkful of noodles, “Kinda endearing on a guy like you, too.”

“…Don’t talk with your mouth full, Clay,” Akane admonishes with that same sharpness of before, none of his irritation waning. So Clay thinks he must have imagined the tinge of color to the other’s cheeks then.

It takes even longer for Clay to discover Akane’s second unforeseen characteristic, and it’s only through a series of occurrences that Clay eventually pieces together to realize the truth.

At first it’s the simple things. Like the first time Akane declines Clay’s offer to watch some horror flick on the TV in the dorm’s lobby. When Akane’s reason is that he has a test to study for, Clay doesn’t think twice about it. But it’s around the eighth time that he dodges similar activities that the weapon begins to think something’s up. 

Truthfully, Clay’s plan to scare Akane comes out of revenge for teasing him one too many times that it borders on downright bullying—in Clay’s humble opinion—and not out of the suspicion that the ever composed meister might actually be afraid of ghosts and the like. 

Clay prepares for the event days in advance, and spends hours at the all year-round Halloween store picking out the perfect mask to use. He sets the date for a Friday, when Clay gets back to their dorm room first while Akane has an extra meister-only lesson. Not to mention it’s the day of the week Akane immediately starts his homework at his desk when he returns from class. Which makes it the perfect opportunity to lure Akane to check under his bed by taking the particular pen he uses and _only_ uses for his school assignments, and placing it on the floor _just_ enough so it’s visible to Akane looking for it when he realizes it’s missing from his desk drawer, but far down under his bed enough that he’ll be forced to get down on his hands and knees and look to where Clay will be hiding and staring at him with the face of a distorted, screaming apparition. 

Everything goes according to plan when the fateful day finally arrives. 

Clay gets under Akane’s bed two minutes before he’s supposed to arrive, and at four-fifteen on the dot Clay hears the door open and sees Akane’s black loafers walk in before the door closes behind him.

While there’s some initial hesitance as he walks further into the room (most likely from wondering where Clay is), eventually Akane goes over to his desk like the weapon anticipated, hears the desk drawer open before the expected “Huh?” from the other’s lips.

From there it’s just a matter of time before Akane turns around and looks to the floor for his missing item. He takes a few steps forward before stopping abruptly, and Clay knows he’s got him. 

When Akane gets down on his hands and knees next to his bed he’s already reaching for the pen, but his fingers stop short when his eyes flicker to Clay’s masked face barely visible in the darkness under the mattress, and he freezes on the spot. 

Clay almost thinks Akane is going to scream. But he doesn’t. Instead, every hint of color drains from the other boy’s face until it’s as white as the sheets atop the bed above, all while still frozen to the spot. And he still doesn’t move after that. Or make a sound. In fact, if Clay didn’t know any better, he would think Akane’s eyes rolled over to the back of his head.

At this point Clay saw himself laughing hysterically while pulling off the mask and getting out from under the bed to revel in his victory over the meister. But what he finds himself doing instead is taking the mask off slowly and carefully, with a very cautious and careful call of Akane’s name, of which he doesn’t respond to. 

While Clay is scrambling out from under the bed and rushing to Akane’s side he wonders if teenage boys are capable of having heart attacks. 

In the end, after a few well-measured shakes of Akane’s limp but paralyzed body, he recovers enough to at least _appear_ conscious, as well as regain some semblance of human color to his face, and eventually (once Akane is able to walk again) Clay treats him to crepes in town to make up for the whole thing.


	6. First Athletics Test

“You really are amazing, Akane.”

It’s the first thing Clay says to him when he returns from finishing the high jump, and while the sudden compliment startles him, Akane merely smiles and masks his surprise with a light laugh.

“I’m just doing what everyone else is doing?” he replies as he takes a seat next to his weapon on the grass. “But thank you.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Clay turns to him with a set frown and raised eyebrow. “You’ve broken the boy’s records for nearly every event so far.”

“Have I?” Akane attempts to feign ignorance, but that appears to be the wrong answer as Clay heaves a frustrated sigh and throws himself back to lie flat on the grass.

“Exactly what’s it like being Mr. Perfect?” Clay asks to the clear blue sky, hands behind his head, and Akane can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not, or rather, if he actually wants an answer or not. 

Just as Akane is opening his mouth, however, Naigus’ voice cuts clean through the field, “Group B is to report to the track for the one hundred meter dash!” 

Clay flinches like the announcement is a physical blow to his person, “…That’s me.” He mutters with a microscopic amount of enthusiasm, and then he’s sitting up to drag himself to his feet. Akane smiles reassuringly as he watches him. 

“Good luck,” Akane says, and then, because Clay doesn’t look any less uneasy, “You’ll do just fine.”

Clay forces a weak smile for him, “Thanks.” And then he’s jogging over to where the other male weapons are beginning to gather on the field. 

From where Akane is sitting, he can see the track well enough that he can still make out the individual runners as they line up at the starting line. Of course it also helps that Clay’s tuff of bright golden hair is fairly unmistakable amidst most crowds. Akane keeps his eyes on him without a second thought to the other students participating. 

From around him and further up, meisters and weapons alike are congregating into small groups to cheer on their partner or friend. While the runners stretch and get ready for Naigus to count them down, there are various cries of encouragement from the spectators, an assortment of different names and generic cheering phrases filling the air and making it feel rich and warm in a way that makes Akane smile absentmindedly.

Some of the more arrogant boys wave or blow kisses to their female fans, while the more modest type simply grin and nod to their friends. For the most part Clay just looks impatient and nervous, but when his restless gaze happens to land on Akane, the meister smiles wide and waves a little. Even from this distance, Akane can see the pink that tinges Clay’s cheeks, and the grin that breaks out onto his face seems to say “you dork,” before he focuses his attention back on the track course in front of him. 

“On your mark!” Naigus is suddenly announcing, raising the starting pistol up over her head, and the runners get into position. “Get set…!”

A few seconds of stillness pass, and then there’s the pop of the gun and they’re off. 

Clay starts off at a good pace, Akane observes. There are those that push off at top speed right from the get go—the ones that will undoubtedly fall behind to last place by the end—and others who are just simply slow, and finally those in the middle who are either of average speed or are smart enough to know to pace oneself while looking for opportunities to pass the other runners. 

Clay, of course, is of the latter. Akane watches him steadily overtake the other sprinters, and while he might not make first, he’s likely got third or second place in the bag. The small clusters of observers at the sidelines continue to root for their particular runner, altogether making something like a genuine audience at a sports contest. Out of all the events of the athletics test, this was the only one to produce such a reaction. Perhaps due to the real-time competition of it? Akane could only guess.

It’s a little after Clay reaches the halfway point in the designated distance of the sprint that something goes wrong.

Akane only notices the discoloration before it happens. He’s paying too much attention to the race as a whole, at the position of the other runners in relation to his own weapon, that he’s not exactly focusing on the details of Clay himself to realize sooner what’s going on.

Not that there could have been any way for Akane to stop it. The whole thing occurs within an instant. So lightning fast that it’s confusion first and foremost in Akane’s mind when Clay’s leg suddenly sticks, throwing him forward to fall face-first into the ground with so much force and no time to throw his hands out that Akane flinches with sympathy pain to a nose that must be bleeding if not bruised.

The shock delays the time it takes Akane to process the cause of it, despite the eye-catching color of Clay’s blade as it takes the place of the blond’s left leg from the knee down. 

The cheers immediately drop to a stunned hush, sprinkled with audible gasps that make even the other runners turn to see what’s wrong, and Akane is quickly getting to his feet, but frozen over the decision of whether to stay where he is or rush over to the track. Clay is pushing himself to his knees easily enough, but Akane can clearly see the red Clay wipes from his nose with the back of a hand, and he’s focusing his gaze downward, not looking at anyone or anything but the sandy ground underneath him, even when the other sprinters hurry over to help. 

“Pft—”

There’s a stifled noise to Akane’s right, and when he turns his head to look it’s a group of boys who had been watching the race, but not among those who had been shouting support to the participants. Akane recognizes them as meisters from his class.

“Man I wish I’d been _recording_ that!” one of them sneers, and all three of them burst into laughter at the same time.

“Dude, I bet you coulda won a cash prize by sending it to one of those funniest home video shows.”

“Oh man yeah! And imagine if they’d put it on _loop_!”

The boys’ laughter erupts into downright howling. 

It’s the male student on the right of the group that notices Akane looking at them. Immediately he recoils back and his laughter cuts off like his own throat had been taken a hold of. It causes the other two to look over in mid-laughter before their faces shift to mimic the first boy’s shuddering fear at whatever they can see in Akane’s expression, and their mirth shrivels up and dies instantaneously.

When they start to shuffle away as they murmur restlessly amongst themselves, Akane turns back and reels in his fury to calm again before he starts jogging over to the track.

Halfway there, however, Akane abruptly halts. 

Clay is getting to his feet again with the help of another weapon who stopped in the middle of the race to backtrack and lend a hand. By the time Clay is standing his leg has transformed back to a human limb, and although Akane isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, he can interpret enough from Clay’s strained smile and weak laughter while he waves off the concerned look of the weapon who came to help. 

Before Akane can think to approach any closer, Clay is taking off running again, and the race finishes without further incident. Clay even places third to last. 

Unfortunately, there isn’t time for Akane to see Clay afterwards as he gets called away for the shot-put, and another opportunity for them to talk doesn’t come until the athletics test is over and they’re heading to the locker rooms to change out of their gym clothes. 

Clay doesn’t say anything the entire time, but he seems uncomfortably braced for Akane to bring it up first at any moment. Except Akane doesn’t. He had planned to, originally. But somehow the urge to prod died down with the passage of time, until he thinks he would be fine with not talking about it at all if Clay so wishes. 

Meanwhile, some other boys Akane recognizes as Clay’s friends in his weapon-only classes come by their lockers to not-so-subtly comfort the blond with overly friendly chatting. At first Akane thinks to shoo them away with a meaningful side-glare, but then something in Clay’s smile seems to turn more genuine at the shoulder pats and put on laughter, giving way to the abrupt, somewhat discouraging realization that Akane is the outsider in this situation.

It’s only until much later, once they’re alone and walking back to the dorms that Clay speaks up again. 

“…I, uhm,” he falters at first, coughs to clear his throat, and Akane doesn’t look at Clay to save him the anxiety of being stared at. “I’m sorry about. Today.”

Akane smiles very slightly, “It’s really not something to apologize for.” A pause. “Is your nose alright?”

“Huh?” Clay starts, taken aback by the sensible question. “Oh, uh.” He breaks out into a light, tense laugh. “Hurts like hell. But I’m okay.”

“We should take a look at it once we’re home,” Akane says casually, and he glances to his left at the other. “It’s probably just bruised. But if it’s broken you should see the school nurse about it.”

“Y-yeah,” Clay agrees, gaze focused on the ground as he walks. “You’re right.”

Silence encompasses them once more. Akane goes back to looking forward, and for a while there’s nothing but the sound of their footsteps along the pavement. Soon they’re only a block away from the boy’s dorm. 

“You’re…” Clay starts, but his voice falters, so he clears his throat to try again. “You’re not going to…ask me anything?”

“Like what?” Akane glances sideways at Clay, smiling faintly. 

Clay makes a hard to describe face, a twisting mixture of irritation, confusion, and embarrassment, “C-come on. You know what.”

“Clay,” Akane says, trying to keep that chiding, meister-like tone out of his voice and failing. “If it’s something you don’t want to talk about, I’m not going to pry.”

“I-it’s—” Clay stammers again, looking surprised by the response. “It’s not that…I don’t want to talk about it…” he murmurs with gaze lowered. Not exactly convincing Akane that he really means that. “I…” But Clay’s voice fails him once more, and he seems to go into a pensive silence to reorganizing his thoughts into what exactly he wants to convey. Akane watches him fidget with his hands for a few seconds as they continue walking, and then decides to bring his gaze forward in a wordless sign that he’ll wait however long it takes for Clay to come up with the reply he’s looking for. 

It’s around the time that they reach the steel gates of the dorm’s that Clay speaks up again. 

“I just don’t…” the weapon says to the ground as they stop walking at the same time. But then Clay lifts his head, and Akane is a bit taken aback by how serious the other boy looks, “…I don’t want you to think that kind of thing will happen when you’re wielding me.”

Akane blinks once, any further reaction than that delayed by the unusually intense look in Clay’s eyes, perhaps showing just how much he was agonizing over this issue far before their walk home started. For some reason, it makes Akane smile, but he holds back his chuckle on the off-chance Clay mistakenly takes it as belittling his troubles. 

“…I know it won’t.” Akane says without a shred of insincerity, and then he’s pushing open the front gate and walking towards the refined manor that makes up the DWMA boy’s dorms, so he only sees the initial bewilderment in Clay’s features before turning away. 

It’s a few seconds of pause before Akane hears Clay’s legs moving again, and when the blond comes back into view as he follows Akane through the double doors inside, Clay’s wearing a smile that looks unconscious and irrepressible, speaking far louder than words of gratitude would have.


	7. First Cooking Lesson

“Augh—” Akane makes another amusing face when he gets more eggshell than egg into the bowl he’s cracking them into. It’s a little bit irritation, a little bit disgust, and a lot of embarrassment that color’s the meister’s features in a rare shade of pink. 

Clay smiles wide as he watches from Akane’s left. He hasn’t laughed once since they started. Not that he ever would, but Akane seems braced for it—expecting it—at every mistake he makes. Not that it _isn’t_ amusing to watch the great and powerful Akane struggle to crack open an egg right, or mix up the salt with the sugar, or spend ten minutes dicing a tomato when it could have been easily done in one. It’s amusing to watch, sure, but it’s nothing Clay hasn’t done himself at one point in time back home. His father hadn’t laughed at him either, then. He’d simply corrected Clay when he needed to, let him do things the hard or slow way until he mastered better, faster methods, and overall watched over his improvements with a gentle hand and a friendly face. 

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Akane says dryly as he throws the majority of the empty eggshells into the sink, then starts picking out the shards that ended up in the bowl of yolk and white with his fingers.

“Huh?” Clay straightens from his slight lean into the kitchen counter, blinking in confusion as he processes the sarcasm and frustration in Akane’s tone. “ _Oh_. No, I’m not— I mean…” A chuckle escapes him. “I _am_ having fun. Really. This is fun. I’m not laughing at you.”

Akane maintains his frown as he focuses down at his bowl and gets the last of the eggshells out of the yellow transparent mixture, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t believe Clay in the slightest. So as Clay reaches out to rip off a paper towel to pass over to Akane to dry his hands with, the weapon goes on with a smile.

“This is how you learn. I can’t even tell you how many times I’d totally smash the egg to pieces and got more on the countertop than in the bowl.”

Akane’s lips quirk up briefly, like the smile was beyond his control, and when he takes the offered paper towel he looks much less aggravated than before.

“…How long did it take you to do it one-handed like that?” Akane asks after a pause, sounding more like his calm, collected self. He tosses the used paper towel in the trash underneath the sink.

“Huh?” Clay blurts as he backtracks to switch gears in the conversation. “Oh,” more laughter. “I’d say about…twenty dozen eggs long.”

“Pft—” Akane brings a hand up to his mouth to half-hide a grin. “…That sounds about right.”

“Hey! What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Clay shoves him without any ill intent behind it, especially when he can’t keep himself from chuckling along. “Jerk.” He turns his attention back to the ingredients in front of him and reaches out for the slices of ham to pull over to the cutting board. “…I’ll teach you sometime,” he adds after a pause, picking up a knife to slice the meat into small, irregular pieces.

With his focus on the task in front of him, Clay doesn’t see it, but he can hear the smile in Akane’s voice when he replies, “Okay.” And a second later the sound of slicing mixes in with Clay’s as Akane mimics his motions.

“Oh, you know—” Clay suddenly realizes and turns his head to Akane, “You don’t have to copy me on the fillings. Omelets are really a personalized kinda thing. You can add whatever you want to it.”

Akane pauses in cutting up his ham, and looks over across the stove to smile at the other, “No, this is fine. I’ve only ever eaten plain rolled omelets before. So I’m not really sure what I’d like. And I trust your tastes.”

Clay can feel himself smiling funny, and he quickly turns his head to look back down at the movement of his knife in case his face is as warm as it feels, “W-well, just in case, I bought some spinach and green peppers too. Oh, and bacon. Though my dad always says that you should try to limit yourself to just three things in an omelet. Or it gets too busy, y’know?”

“So you learned how to cook from your father?” Akane asks as Clay hears him resume chopping.

“Yeah. Well, I’ve been helping him out in the kitchen since I was seven,” Clay smiles warmly at the thought. Of simpler days and a simpler time. “Then I started doing things myself once Mom would let me work the stove without freaking out.” A chuckle. “Not that I really know how to make all that much. If I did, we wouldn’t be eating out three times a week…”

“Really? I think what you can do is already amazing enough.” Akane says with what Clay knows is complete and utter sincerity. And that’s what depresses him, even if it _is_ a little satisfying to hear the word “amazing” out of Akane’s mouth in the context of describing the weapon. But really, Akane was so easily impressed by the weirdest of things.

“W-well, anyway,” Clay stammers as he sets the knife down and clears his throat, “We should get started now. First we’re gonna whisk the eggs.” He pulls the bowl of eggs over he set off to the side, and grabs the whisk from the tall jug holding cooking utensils and hands it to Akane. Since there was only one for each kitchen in the dorms, Clay uses a fork instead to whip up his yolks and whites together. 

He can feel Akane’s eyes on him as he imitates him with his own bowl of eggs, and when Clay stops so does Akane, mimicking him down to setting down the bowl and reaching for the knob on the stove. It’s a little funny and a little unsettling, and Clay has to wonder if he ever did the same to his father when he was younger, and how in the world his father was able to keep a straight face about it.

But it’s fine. If Clay laughs now he’ll probably never be able to convince Akane to step into a kitchen again. So he’s able to hold his expression together even as he starts explaining the process.

“Okay, so we’re gonna turn the heat on,” Clay twists the knob and blue flames come to life at the bottom left corner of the stove. “And throw on our butter.” As Akane turns on his burner, right next to Clay’s, the blond reaches for the butter and a knife and scoops up some for himself and Akane to toss into their pans. Then Clay grabs the handle of his to tilt the butter around in the pan over the heat to spread it around evenly, and Akane copies the motion, albeit with more hesitation than Clay’s practiced movements.

“Now,” Clay starts as he sets the pan back down and reaches for the bowl of egg batter, “we’re gonna dump our eggs in.” And he pours the yellow mixture into the skillet to spread out into a pancake, with Akane not too far behind with his. “Let it sit there for a second and…” Clay trails off as he reaches for two spatulas. Luckily there were five or six of these in each dorm floor kitchen, as they were always the first thing to get used up and dirtied. He hands one to Akane as he continues, “Just watch what I do. We wanna make sure it gets cooked all the way through, so…”

Clay demonstrates with his own pan how he uses the end of the spatula to push the edges of the omelet toward the center, so any uncooked liquid remaining fills up the space left behind and gets heated. He does this a few times as Akane watches and imitates uncertainly until hardly any raw, liquid egg spills into the empty spaces he leaves. 

“Okay, so while the top is still a little runny, we’ll toss on all our stuff,” Clay smiles excitedly. It was already smelling great. “Only on one side though. Make sure you leave room to fold it in half nicely.” And then he reaches for the piles of ham, diced tomatoes, and shredded cheese on the cutting board, grabbing a fist full of each one by one to drop onto one side of the omelet. “We’ll let the cheese melt a little, then fold it up and it’ll be done.”

“Huh?” Akane says, sounding startled. “That’s it?”

“Yup,” Clay grins. “I told you these were easy to make. And it’ll taste great too.”

“…If you say so.”

After a few more seconds, Clay picks his spatula back up. “Okay, so now we’re just gonna fold it in half.” Carefully he slides the flat utensil underneath one side of the omelet, and in one smooth, practiced motion, flips it to curve over into a neat half circle over the layers of cheese, vegetable and meat.

“Oh—” Clay hears Akane murmur in distress, and when Clay turns to look, he sees a much messier attempt at folding over an omelet in Akane’s pan.

“Ah, it’s fine!” Clay quickly soothes. “You probably flipped it too fast. I did that my first time too. It’s cool, not like it’ll affect the taste.”

Clay turns off the heat on both their burners, and then reaches up to the cupboards overhead for plates. When he hands one to Akane he’s still looking vaguely dissatisfied, made only worse by his inept effort at transferring his omelet from the pan to his plate. But although Clay continues to try and reassure him that the appearance won’t mean anything once they start eating, by the time they make their way to the kitchen table with their forks and drinks Akane hasn’t lost any of the displeasure from his features. 

“Here,” Clay smiles wide, leans over the table, and plops a generous spoonful of sour cream atop the still warm omelet on Akane’s plate. “ _Now_ you can dig in.”

Akane raises an eyebrow, looking at Clay across the table with a doubtful expression, but in the end he shrugs and shakes his head helplessly as if to say _Fine, I’ll bite_ , and picks up his fork to start eating.

Clay watches him expectantly, observes him cut off a chunk of egg with his fork, trying to get everything—egg, cheese, tomato, ham, and sour cream—into one perfect mouthful. Akane manages it with some difficulty, but has to bring the forkful quickly to his lips before anything spills off. Then he’s chewing, and Clay grins wide as he watches Akane’s face shift into a wide-eyed surprise Clay knows all too well. 

“Oh—” Akane brings a hand to his mouth, talking before he’s even finished completely chewing his first bite. “Oh my god.” His eyes look their shining from where Clay is sitting, feeling giddier by the second as he watches a pleasant flush color Akane’s features. “…It’s delicious.”

“Of course it is,” Clay can’t help chuckling, and then he starts digging into his own omelet. 

“I…” Akane starts, finally swallows, and begins anew without losing his shell-shocked expression, “I can’t believe I made something that tastes this good.”

“Heh, I thought the same thing about the first dish I made on my own,” Clay beams after a sip of his water. “See? Cooking ain’t so bad.”

Akane smiles somewhat bashfully, likely thinking back to all his previous protests of this endeavor, “…Yeah. You’re right.” He glances back down at his food as he works to scoop up another complete forkful. Clay can’t help but watch Akane as he mmm’s around his second bite, and for a while they eat in silence. Not for a lack of anything to talk about, but rather, a lack of opportunity to speak through their mouths full of food. 

However, when they’re both about halfway through their omelets, Clay speaks up.

“Hey, so. That Death Bazaar market thing is coming up, right?” It’s a rhetorical question to set the stage, as Clay goes on with little pause. “I was thinking I could find some cheap cookbook to buy there. And then, maybe…” his tone goes hesitant, then, and his smile tentative. “…maybe we could take a crack at it? One page at a time?”

Akane looks surprised at the proposition for a moment, but to Clay’s immense relief, it soon shifts to an amicable smile, “…Sure. I don’t see why not.”

Something in Clay’s chest flutters at the answer, and he grins, by now starting to feel the slight ache in his cheeks from smiling so much. 

“Okay. Awesome.”

When he resumes eating, his food seems to taste even better than before.


	8. First Video Game

When Akane returns to his dorm room one day after an afternoon studying in the library, he gets the door a quarter of the way open before he’s jolted back by Clay throwing himself bodily against it with a frantic “No no no don’t come in yet!” 

A second after the door slams shut, it’s thrown open again quick. Just enough for Clay to emerge and swiftly close it behind him before Akane can see anything out of the ordinary inside the room. At this point Akane would be worried amidst the curiosity and confusion, except Clay pressing himself back against the door is smiling like he’s hiding a juicy secret, so that clears away any concern the meister might have of the possibility Clay somehow trashed their living quarters, broke a window, set something on fire, or any number of terrible incidents that would prompt Akane to be shut out until further notice.

“Okay okay, humor me, and close your eyes for a sec,” Clay is saying now, grinning and giddy like a little kid. And if not for such an eager look, Akane probably wouldn’t indulge his weapon in this way. He’s never been much a fan of surprises, especially when he truly has not the slightest idea of what to expect. He doesn’t remember today being a particularly special date. It was just a regular old Saturday as far as he knew. Then again, he was at the library studying most of today—a meister only test was coming up next week—so perhaps he missed something around the boy’s dorm that would give him some sort of clue as to what Clay had in store for him beyond this door.

But Clay _does_ look thrilled about something, and Akane can’t help being pulled along by that charming, heart-on-their-sleeve type of enthusiasm. 

So Akane smiles soft and amicably but mostly amused, “Alright then.” And closes his eyes.

A moment later, he feels the warmth of Clay’s hand grabbing at his wrist. The sound of the door swinging open once more, and Clay is carefully pulling him inside. It’s only a few steps, not very far into their shared room at all, because just when Akane thinks of sneaking a peek, the door is closing behind him already, and Clay’s fingers slip away from Akane’s skin, leaving a pleasant burn in their wake, and then—

“Okay, you can look now.” 

So Akane does, and luckily for him Clay is gesturing with a flourish of both arms towards the point of interest like the reveal of a big prize in a game show, because otherwise Akane wouldn’t think the small, portable TV and the odd devices scattered around it was the thing Clay wanted to surprise him with.

“Oh,” Akane says reflexively, and despite his best efforts he can feel his expression reflect his lackluster response and uncertainty to this sudden reveal. “Um…”

It does pain him to see Clay’s elated face fall, but while there’s heartbreak there it’s mostly confusion, too. Prompting Clay ask, “You…don’t know what it is, do you?”

“I’m sorry,” Akane apologizes sincerely, forcing a weak smile. “Am I supposed to?”

“Uh, yes?” Clay raises a brow with hands on his hips. “Or, what. You’re a PlayStation kid?”

Akane’s smile fades as he blinks at the other blankly, confusion piling on top of confusion. A few beats of silence pass before Clay’s facial features shift to some sort of realization.

“Oh my god,” Clay’s eyes are wide and unbelieving. “Have you not played a video game before?”

Akane tilts his head slightly to the side, unsure if this conversation calls for such dramatics, so he answers blunt and simple, “No, not at all.”

Clay stumbles backward a few steps like he’s been shot right through the chest. He even grabs at the corner of Akane’s desk to steady himself, “Oh my god…” he repeats to himself, head hanging like there’s a weight at his shoulders while he clutches at his heart as if that were the point of entry for the previous shot. But then he’s recovering quick, straightening up and rushing forward to Akane so fast it even startles the meister enough to step back a little. 

Clay slaps down both hands on Akane’s shoulders, looks him straight in the eye, and says, “You poor thing. You _poor_ , malnourished _child_. No _wonder_ you’re like this.”

“Wait what is that supposed to me—” Akane starts to say with brows furrowed, but Clay is suddenly pulling him again by the wrist over to the new TV and the items lying under it. The small television is actually sitting atop an overturned cardboard box, now that Akane takes a moment to really look at it, while the retro-looking devices sit on the floor, which is where Clay drags Akane down to sit. 

“Well then, I made an even better choice than I had originally thought. Buying all this.” Clay is declaring with a hint of smugness, taking a seat next to Akane and reaching out to flip a switch on the black box-ish thing in front of them. “Not that it already wasn’t a great deal. The guy at the bazaar was practically _giving_ this away…”

And then Akane remembers. Today _was_ the day the Death Bazaar was being held in the city square. He does recall Clay saying something about it a while back, talking about cookbooks they could buy for cheap. But while it’s nice to solve that part of the puzzle, something else then suddenly nags at the back of his mind.

“So, you bought this at that flea market today?”

Clay is a little preoccupied setting up whatever it is he’s purchased, so he answers while leaning over on his hands and knees to fiddle with the TV display options. Not that it puts a damper on his cheerful tone, “Yeah, can you believe it? I got this TV, the game console, the best game ever made for it, two controllers, a rumble pack, _and_ he threw in this great box! I mean, I’ll buy something better later, of course. And we’ll need more games too. All the classics to get you caught up and—”

“Clay,” Akane says calmly, with just enough force to put a stop to the blond’s rambling before it gets out of hand. 

“Yeah?” Clay replies distractedly, connecting a set of differently colored cords into the television set.

“…How much did all of this cost?”

Clay’s hand slips as he’s plugging in the red cord, shoulders jumping at the question. But he very carefully doesn’t react beyond that, hooking up the cable a second try without any trouble.

“…How much did what cost?” Clay replies without turning his head to look at Akane, his voice slightly higher than usual. 

“Everything you bought today.”

Clay seems to take more time plugging in the other two cords than is humanly possible, working at a sloth’s pace while keeping up a wavering chipper tone, “Sssso you mean…the TV? And…the game console? Aaaaannndd—”

“ _Clay_ ,” Akane cuts off impatiently.

“Okay okay!” Clay whirls around so Akane can see exactly how remorseful he looks. He presses his palms together in a praying gesture for forgiveness. “So I might, uh…” His gaze slides to the right to avoid Akane’s stare. “Be a little short on money for food for this month…”

Akane sighs, arms folded across his chest, “…How short?”

Clay laughs weakly. Not a good sign at all, especially while the blond still isn’t looking him in the eye. 

“Uhm…like…” Clay answers as if he has to pull each word out of his mouth by force, with a grimace to match, “…not…being…able to eat at all…?”

Akane can actually feel his eyes go wide as saucers, and it takes him a moment to get his own words to come out, too barreled over by the shock, “You spent…your _entire_ month’s allowance in one day?”

“In my defense, this all _really_ was a great deal! Do you have any idea how much these things go for online?!”

“ _Clay_ …” Akane says more out of exasperation than anything, reaching underneath his glasses with two fingers to rub some of the ache away at the bridge of his nose.

“B-but hey! This is exactly what partners are for, right?” Clay is now plopping himself back to where he was sitting at Akane’s side, this time so close their shoulders touch. “To help each other out in their time of need?” He smiles too wide and cheerfully, leaning slightly into the meister’s shoulder.

Akane responds with nothing but a side-glare and disapproving frown. 

Clay’s façade cracks again just as easily as Akane expected, leaning back so he can turn his body and face the other fully, clasping his hands together to plead, “O-okay, I’m seriously, _seriously_ sorry. If you cover for me this month, I’ll…I-I’ll…” he struggles for a few seconds in thought. “Do your laundry for a month? Make your bed? Do your homework—anything you want!”

A smile tugs at the corner of Akane’s mouth, and his posture relaxes as he lets out the smallest of chuckles, “…It’s fine, Clay. I can feed you until our next allowance. Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” Clay blinks, desperation giving way to bewilderment. “W-wait, really?”

“Really,” Akane smiles affably, and he picks up one of the game controllers to look down at it to study the different, unfamiliar buttons. “I rarely buy anything outside of food and other living essentials. So I have some extra cash that’s been piling up from what’s leftover every month.”

While he’s not looking directly at Clay or anything of the sort, Akane can somehow feel the admiring shine in the other’s eyes, like there’s a glowing backdrop of comedic sparkles behind him that Akane can just make out in his periphery. Then suddenly, Akane’s sense of balance is shifting by some physical force, and it takes him a moment to comprehend that Clay has thrown himself forward to hug him. 

“You’re the best, Akane!” 

The comment of praise is as short as the embrace is. But even so, it leaves Akane stunned for a handful of seconds. While Clay is letting go and grabbing his own controller, focus on the small television screen coming to life and rattling off about the game they’re about to play, and how much Akane will love it, Akane is only hearing the muffled version of Clay’s speech, his mind too busy processing the too-warm feeling in his chest and face. 

Clay has always been a physically expressive person, yes. Not shy in grabbing Akane’s attention with a touch at the shoulder or wrist or arm, and Akane doing much of the same. They’ve also had their fair share of sitting close together while studying or reading off the other’s notes, close enough that their shoulders press against each other and Akane can hear every breath Clay makes while making out each individual strand of brilliantly bright, golden blond hair. But this might be the first hug he’s ever received from Clay. 

It’s startling not only coming from Clay, but Akane can’t quite remember the last time he experienced such an affectionate gesture. It must have been when he was much younger, surely. Back when the days felt longer and the training sessions shorter.

“…—hat character do you want to be?” Clay’s voice suddenly cuts back in like the audio to a busted player was abruptly fixed, and Akane represses a flinch at the noise. He probably missed something about the game’s controls and the storyline and everything else crucial to playing, but Akane smiles like he didn’t miss a syllable, and starts moving the joystick around to shuffle through the array of colorful individuals on the screen. 

“Hmm…is this one any good?” Akane stops at what looks like a humanoid robot with a gun as an arm. 

“Sure, long as you handle her right,” Clay grins, having already picked his character. A pointy-eared, green-clad young man with a sword and shield. A sensible, balanced looking choice in Akane’s opinion. He would have liked to play as him if he weren’t already taken. 

“Hm. Okay then,” Akane hums absently and selects his character.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you for now,” Clay says with a revitalized smugness, and picks a stage for them to battle on.

As it turns out, it’s alright that Akane zoned out on the instructions for playing Clay undoubtedly gave him. The controls for movement and attacking are rather simple. It’s like he doesn’t even need to use half of the buttons on his controller. Although with time and practice he does find out there are some extra tricks to it. Like avoiding damage and blocking. But overall, he gets the hang of it in roughly under five matches, to both Clay’s delight and dismay. 

It _is_ a fun game. They play it for so long they both lose track of time, until Clay’s stomach growls like a dying beast, and they realize it’s already dinner time. By then they’ve played at least a dozen battles against each other with varying conditions and rules, but neither of them pulling ahead in collective wins by a lot. Akane was only down by two losses, and he seemed to have the upper hand in their current match they’d have to pause to grab something to eat.

This was a good purchase. Not that Akane would say such a thing aloud to Clay. The weapon could still do with some residual guilt over this impulse buy to ensure it wouldn’t happen again (without the surplus of money to spend).

“Oh yeah, let’s go into town tomorrow to some of the secondhand bookstores,” Clay is saying as they’re walking down the hall towards the dorm kitchen, where Clay has promised to prepare dinner for tonight as part of his apology. “We could probably find one or two good cookbooks there to buy.” 

Without missing a beat, Akane feigns irritated hurt as he replies, “I suppose _I’ll_ be paying for that too…”

And like he anticipates, Clay nearly trips over his own two feet as his casual demeanor shifts to guilt-ridden alarm, and he fumbles out a stammering apology which Akane answers with reassurance and a smile. 

Between a happy, smiling Clay and Clay flustered into an amusing panic, it was hard for Akane to choose which he enjoyed seeing more.


	9. First Summer: Side C

_“Oh, you don’t get a summer break?”_ the voice on the other end of the line says with a hint of disappointment.

“No, doesn’t look like it,” Clay replies as he stops his absent pacing back and forth to take a seat at the end of his bed. On the top of the mattress lies an abandoned piece of printed paper, which Clay picks back up as he goes on, “I mean, we technically get a few weeks off, but every other day or so is a mandatory summer school session.”

_“That’s too bad… your father and I were hoping you could come back to visit for a few days at least…”_

Clay can feel the forced smile at his lips, and he tries to keep it out of his tone when he responds, “Yeah…too bad…”

There’s a beat of telling silence. Then— _“…I know, honey.”_ Firm but tender. _“But…you could just spend the time at the house. Or are we just too boring for you?”_ his mother tries to save the conversation with a lighthearted jab, and it works, if only a little, forcing the corner of Clay’s mouth to quirk up. 

“Nah, I know, Mom. I miss you too. But it’s not like I can get the time off anyway, so…” Clay starts holding the phone between his ear and shoulder so both his hands are free to idly fold the piece of paper with their summer school schedule on it. “I think winter break’s a thing though. I mean they gotta let kids go back home for Christmas if they want.”

_“Would you like to visit then?”_ his mother asks carefully. _“Don’t think you have to though. I mean it. You wouldn’t hurt your poor mom’s feelings.”_

Clay chuckles a little at that. “Mm. Well.” He keeps folding, turning his body so he’s sitting cross-legged atop the bed with room to place the piece of paper flat on the mattress. “I’ll think about it. Maybe just for Christmas or something. Since I’m not that far away.”

_“Alright. Think about it. And even if you don’t end up coming, I’ll make sure Santa mails you something.”_

“Yeah, yeah…” Clay rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too, edging on more laughter. 

_“Oh, should I send something for Akane too? What’s he like?”_

“Huh?” Clay says automatically, caught off guard by the question. He has to bring a hand up to grab at his cell phone knocked askew by his surprised movement, “O-oh, you don’t have to do that, Mom…”

_“And why not?”_ she says matter-of-factly. _“He’s your friend, isn’t he? And he sounds like a very nice boy the way you talk about him.”_

“M- _mom!_ ” Clay can feel himself flushing like there’s someone else in the room to hear her, and he messes up one of his folds. 

_“Well if you won’t tell me what he likes, I’ll have to pick something out on my own.”_

“I-I don’t know okay!? Just don’t worry about it. Why are we even talking about this _now_ December is _months_ away!”

_“Oh alright,”_ his mother heaves a sigh like _he’s_ the one being unreasonable here. _“Well then you get back to me about winter break. I have to go now. My show’s about to start. Take care, sweetie. I love you.”_

“Yeah, love you too. Bye!” Clay rushes the last few words as he hears the turning of a knob, and hangs up quick. He’s just snapping his phone closed when the door opens and Akane enters the room with an armful of books. 

“Sorry, was I interrupting?” Akane looks apologetic as he pushes the door closed behind him.

“Huh? O-oh—no,” Clay smiles reassuringly. “I was just finishing.” He tosses his cell over towards his pillow, and swiftly shifts the conversation elsewhere. “So where’ve you been?”

“I had an essay to turn in to Sid-sensei,” Akane starts by saying as he walks over to his desk to place the small pile of books down. “Then I thought while I was out, I might as well stop by the library to check out a few things.” He pauses to pull a book out from the stack and holds it up for Clay to see the cover. “I picked up that encyclopedia on magic you were looking at before.”

“Oh!” Clay perks up from his hunch over his almost-completed creation. “Sweet, thanks! You can just put it on my desk there.” He looks back down to complete the last fold, so he only hears Akane setting down the tome, and then the question of “And what are _you_ doing?”

Clay grins as he lifts up the finished product with two careful fingers, and instead of answering in words, he precisely tosses the paper airplane forward, where it glides beautifully in the air a moment before crashing straight into the wall. Well, he expected that, with how small their shared dorm room was. But it still flew great. Maybe he’d chuck it out the window later to see how far it would go.

Akane, with a faintly amused smile, goes over to pick it up from the floor. After giving it a brief onceover, he looks to Clay with a raised brow, “Isn’t this our schedule for summer session?”

“Possibly,” Clay grins. “But it’s fine. You got a copy too.”

“You should still hang onto yours,” Akane lightly chides as he comes around his bed to sit at the edge, facing Clay, and smoothly tosses the paper airplane back to the blond. “No matter how much you don’t like it.”

Clay makes a face as he catches the gliding projectile, “I’m just saying. Would it kill them to give us a little break? We’re studying just as much as we would in normal school.” He pulls his arm back slightly and releases the paper craft to float back to Akane.

“I’ve heard this is only for the first years,” Akane responds as he calmly catches the airplane with a pair of fingers. “I’m sure it’s just to make sure all the new weapons are on the right track controlling their powers.” He tosses it back.

Clay catches it with a little less grace than before, and looks down at the paper airplane as he absently straightens out the tip that collided against the wall, “…Yeah. I know.” 

He’s expecting the question from Akane long before the meister asks it, “…Not looking forward to the evaluations?” 

Clay forces a grin, still looking down at the paper airplane and not Akane’s face, “How could you tell?”

Akane doesn’t say anything or move for a handful of seconds, in which Clay continues to fidget with the paper craft like there’s still something to be fixed. Then there’s the creaking sound of Akane standing from his seat, and it’s only a matter of two measly strides to cross the distance between their beds for Akane to plop down next to Clay.

_You’ll be fine_ , are the words Clay is expecting to hear next. Or maybe _Just think of it as a regular wielding session_. Or some other equally well-meaning expression of encouragement. He’s anticipating it. Bracing for it as he stares down at the meticulously folded aircraft in his lap. But it never comes. 

Instead, a hand comes over to pluck the paper airplane from his grasp, forcing Clay to look up at Akane. But Akane isn’t looking at him, and in the next instant he’s unfurling all his hard work right in front of his eyes.

“H-hey!” Clay immediately protests, and he lifts a hand as if to grab it back, but stops the motion halfway when he sees Akane’s fingers start moving as he begins making folds of his own in the already creased sheet of paper. If anything, the curiosity quiets Clay down, though he’s still narrowing his eyes irritably at the other as he watches the demonstration. 

It takes Clay a handful of seconds to recognize what Akane’s doing. But it’s understandable. Most of the process involves diamond fold after diamond fold after diamond fold. Only at the very end as the wings take shape and the head and tail come up does the realization dawn on him, and then Clay’s smiling funny as Akane finishes, takes Clay’s wrist to lift up, and then places the neatly folded paper crane in the palm of his hand.

When Clay glances away from the small white bird and up at Akane’s face, the meister is smiling like he’s solved something, and says, “Now all you need is nine hundred and ninety-nine more, and you can wish the weapon evaluations were cancelled.” 

“Pft—” the short burst of amusement comes quick and sudden. “Oh my god,” Clay shoves his shoulder somewhat roughly against Akane’s while fighting off laughter, “you’re ridiculous.”

Akane’s smile widens by a fraction, taking the “abuse” with a chuckle, “It makes just doing the evaluation a lot easier, doesn’t it?”

Clay’s grin falls right away, his eyes widening in some surprise, and he stops pushing against the other boy. After a moment of finding himself stuck staring at Akane’s smiling face, his eyes nervously dart away to anywhere else. He settles on the opposite wall for a second, then his desk, then Akane’s bed, before they settle down at the folded paper crane still in his right hand. Despite the visible scrawl of printed black font that prevents the creation from being a pure white, in addition to the previous folds that make its current shape slightly more mangled than it should be, it still looks perfectly elegant and appealing in Clay’s eyes. Cute, even.

An unsteady smile spreads across his warming face as Clay suppresses a wider grin. 

“…Yeah.” Though he can’t help the small, light laugh that escapes him. “I guess you’re right.”

Clay makes a mental note to ask for another copy of their summer schedule the next time he sees their professor.


End file.
